The Hermeporta Beyond the Gates of Hermes

by Hogarth Brown

  ‘Don’t drink too much’ said Iona, ‘you’re driving remember.' Winston put the glass down.

  ‘Well, if I’m going to be bored I may as well be drunk’ said Winston with a smile, but he slowed at the second glass, while Iona rubbed her bare foot along his calf, up to his thigh, and then massaged her toes into his groin under the table.

  ‘Be a good boy now’ she said with a devilish smirk and a raised brow, ‘I’ve still not forgiven you’ she added, pressing her foot forward and enjoying the feel as Winston’s flesh responded. The waiter arrived to top up the water, and exchanged glances with the couple, as Iona slipped her foot back into its former position.

  ‘Let’s get the bill’ Winston coughed, with some colour in his cheeks. Iona pouted. He called the waiter back to pay for the meal but took his time before he stood up to leave the table as Iona sashayed to the car.

  The couple rolled down their windows upon entering the Renault, which had already become too warm in the early afternoon sunshine. Iona dug out her road map as Winston started the engine which spluttered and heaved as the car drove up the bank, and gave out all sorts of rattles and groans as Winston cranked through the gears when upon the main road. The azure waters of the Aegean glittered below the elevation of the coastal pass. Winston relished a sense of freedom as the rental car improved on flat roads at greater speeds. Iona ignored the coastline and pushed strands of her hair behind her ears as she consulted her map before she wound her window higher to reduce the wind that disturbed her reading.

  ‘If we just follow the coast,' she said, ‘then we can reach Duggie’s site in about a couple of hours.' Iona looked across to Winston, who kept his eyes on the road or glanced at the sea. ‘I wonder how he and his team are getting on with their work?’ She added, ‘He wrote me to say that they're excavating a temple mound devoted to Athena.' Iona tried to make eye contact with Winston. ‘Look she said’ fishing a Polaroid photo from her bag, ‘you can see the base of the temple mound.'

  Winston ignored the picture of a burly Douglas, surrounded by an admiring team, squat next to an unearthed boulder, wearing shorts and an open-necked t-shirt that erupted with his chest hair. Winston gritted his teeth, said nothing, and then fiddled with the radio until he found a station that played traditional Turkish music. A sonorous female voice floated over the plink-a-plink of plucked strings and rhythmic taps of tambourines, and goblet drums, to fill the car with sound. Iona reached forward and turned down the volume.

  ‘You don’t want to visit Kyme, do you?’ said Iona, as the car sped along,

  ‘There are better places to visit… Look, I’m not against it, but why do we have to go there today? We have a week here.'

  ‘Duggie will be returning to the states soon, and I promised him I’d visit the next time I was in Turkey.' Winston waved his hand through the air at the comment, ‘he’s been here for almost two years’, she said, but Winston tapped his fingers on the steering wheel,

  ‘we shared research, remember?’ she added, her face strained. ‘I’ve always wanted you to meet him: he’s a fascinating guy.' Winston rolled his eyes.

  ‘Yeah, right’ he said. Iona crossed her arms.

  ‘We can’t always talk about physics, you know. Sometimes I want to talk about what I’m interested in’. Winston glanced at Iona and huffed.

  ‘FINE, let’s get this over with’ he said,

  ‘Don’t be like this’ said Iona, rubbing her forehead. But Winston reached over for the map, which he had to tug from her grasp before he slowed the car to consult it.

  ‘Look, we can cut across here and save time so that you have more of it to wave a final goodbye to “Duggie.”' Iona ran her tongue across her teeth and shook her head.

  ‘I think we should stick to the coast’ she said, ‘the roads are bad in the hills, and the mountain roads are worse.' But Winston ignored her, glanced again at the map, and turned the car up the nearest dirt road that had presented itself. Iona rubbed at her forehead while the sinews raised around her jaw. The car bumped along as it climbed, the road less smooth than the motorway, and clouds of dust rose from the track as the vehicle advanced higher. Iona switched off the radio, rummaged in her bag as the car jostled along, and pulled out a tape before prodding it into the car's cassette player. Soon the sounds of Mariah Carey’s ‘Emotions’ rang out from the car.

  ‘Not her again’ Winston growled,

  ‘If you’re going to take this “shortcut” then I get to listen to Mariah.'

  The car creaked and heaved as the arid dirt road climbed into the hills and some of the tall peaks that lay beyond. The car gave another grumble as Winston changed gear, and he flinched when Iona added to the engine noise by attempting to sing along with the virtuoso pop star at the top of her voice. Like most people, she failed in her attempts imitate the diva but did not care, and screeched like a hawk in pain as the vocalist climbed to notes higher than the mountain tops that dotted the distance. Winston stopped the tape.

  ‘My ears will bleed if you carry on’ he said, pressing the eject button, tossing the tape to Iona, and unzipping his side pouch to retrieve a cassette tape of his own.

  ‘But she’s talented’ Iona protested, as the car bounced along the road that worsened as they progressed,

  ‘Yes, she is, but you’re not’ said Winston before he shoved his tape into the player. He ignored Iona’s incredulous expression and cranked the volume up as the mellow sound of Bob Marley’s Buffalo Soldier filled the car. Iona clenched her small hands into fists.

  ‘Why must we always do what you want to do?’ Iona shouted, ‘we always talk about what you want to talk about? You never listen to me or think about what I want’ Iona bellowed, as the car shuddered along the dirt track and the sun beat down upon the car from overhead. The sound of pebbles and rocks hitting the chassis punctuated the shouts and music. A vein rose in Winston’s neck.

  ‘Well, I’d be more inclined to listen to you if you didn’t keep prattling on about “Duggie” and his shitty dig. My dad wouldn’t even bother to glance at where he’s scratching around.’ Iona’s face had turned a dark red.

  ‘Well he’s dead, so I don’t care what he thinks!’ Winston’s eyes widened to saucers at the remark, and Iona’s then implored with an apology as Winston glared at her.

  ‘You, bitc…’ Winston exclaimed, but could not finish, when the car hit a pothole and a pop-crack sound wrenched through the music, and the car lurched off the dirt road. Iona screamed, and Winston struggled to control the vehicle that glanced off a large rock with the scraping sound of torn metal and wrestled with the steering wheel as if it were a bear trying to claw at his face. The car swung, rotating in a cloud of dust, almost flipping over as a tire hit a boulder and lurched upward. Pebbles cracked and clattered at the windscreen, and hailed in through Winston’s half open window before his foot found the breaks and shoved forward. With more bumps and screams the car ground to a halt. The couple sat, shell-shocked, for a moment in silence, glad to be alive, as the smell and acrid taste of dust filled their mouths. Winston coughed.

  ‘My God, you’re bleeding’ said Iona, undoing her seat belt, and reaching forward toward a cut above Winston’s eye. He unclipped his seat belt to check himself in the rear-view mirror.

  ‘I’ll be alright’ he said as he looked at the streak of blood down his face that had begun to mingle with the dust that dulled his hair. Iona’s lip began to tremble, and her eyes moistened.

  ‘I’m sorry’ she said, ‘I didn’t mean to say…’ her voice trailed off into tears. Winston closed his eyes for a moment and thought of his father,

  ‘It doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t change anything'. Winston shoved several times at his car door, but it did not budge. ‘We’ll have to come out your side’ he said, Iona nodded and wiped at her tears before the pair crept out into the appalling heat of the landscape they found themselves within. Iona held her face with her hands and shook her head. The couple checked each other for breaks, found none, but identified
what were to become severe bruises. The car looked awful. The left tire had been burst by the pothole and hung like a rubber flag from the disjointed wheel. A tearing scrape ran the length of the car which revealed the metal beneath the green paint and punctured the door on the rear passenger side. The pair traced their eyes over the winding skid marks that told the story of how the car came into its state.

  Overcome, Iona wept again, and Winston held her to himself till she stopped - although his arms and legs shook all over. ‘We have to get out of this heat’ he said, ‘we’ll roast to death out here.'

  ‘But, shouldn’t we walk back?’ she said as if gripped by panic.

  ‘We’ve just had a car crash, Iona’ said Winston, ‘I think we should find shelter and sit down’, Iona nodded again and coughed. ‘It’s too hot to walk back now. Do you have any water?’

  ‘Yes,’ Iona said, ‘I’ve got a small bottle in my bag.' Winston stretched and clutched at his back, and then rubbed his neck. Iona then fussed over him. She took a tissue from her purse and mopped at the drying blood on his face.

  ‘Look’ said Winston pointing to a collection of massive rocks in the near distance, ‘we can take shelter over there.' Iona glanced towards where Winston looked and agreed before she reached into the car, which still played Bob Marley - the upbeat music in such contrast to the devastated vehicle - pressed stop, switched off the engine and took out the keys.

  The pair limped, somewhat, to the tall rocks and the steep sides of a craggy hill that stood almost like a mountain. Reaching their destination took longer than expected, and the pair sipped from the small bottle of water to prevent swooning in the oppressive heat. The land around them looked desolate, save for a few tired bushes to punctuate the harsh sandy Anatolian landscape. The baked environment ironed the pair’s earlier memory of the sea. Winston's eyes stung as he looked up into the sun. The black shadows of vultures circling above were the only things to disturb the cloudless sky, a sky that would have been a blessing in a wetter country, but with its relentless blue glare, it took on a menace: a numb implacable anger that did not care if they lived or died. The pair passed the leathery carcass of a goat with rib-bones picked clean, that protruded through its hide and bleached in the glare.

  ‘We have to get out of this heat’ said Iona, losing her balance for a moment, and feeling the prickle of sunburn upon her brow, cheekbones and nose.

  ‘We’re almost there’ panted Winston. To their surprise and relief, the rocks they reached had obscured the entrance to a small cave. ‘We can climb this’ he said, eyeing up an awkward slope of stone like a leopard, before pouncing upward as the beast would into a tree, ‘it’s not too high’ he added from his new vantage point. Iona looked upward, cringed, but gave a pensive nod, and raised her hands above her head to allow herself to be whisked up onto the rocks with a lunge and pull from Winston. He lifted her like a toddler. Her sandals lost their grip on the skittish surface, and Iona slipped several times before she grazed her knee. Winston patted her down, and the pair were glad to enter the modest opening of the cave and get instant relief from the heat.

  ‘Let’s stay here a while’ said Winston, as his voice echoed in the chamber, ‘when the sun sets we can try to walk back.' His voice echoed again, ‘wow, this place is much deeper than I thought’ he said, testing the sound with repeated calls that reverberated back to him from the grey-brown darkness within. Iona plonked herself down upon a smooth boulder that made a convenient seat and watched Winston pace around the cave with pensive curiosity while testing the echo of his voice. ‘There’s a lot of room in here’ he said, ‘can't you hear how much space there is?’ Iona shrugged, flicking her hand at Winston, her face stinging, and rummaged through her bag in search of face cream: lost in her thoughts. ‘I’m going to walk further in’ he said.

  ‘OK’ Iona called back with detachment, ‘I’m going to sit here a while.' She fussed at herself and frowned into a pocket mirror as Winston walked deeper into the cave.

  The coolness of the vaulted cavern provided relief, and Winston took in deep breaths of the damp musky air that soothed his throat,

  ‘there must be water in here?’ He muttered as he progressed forward. The light grew dimmer as he walked. The cave began to dip and broaden as Winston advanced and he noticed a bat, disturbed from slumber, which flew deeper into the cave. The ample space darkened as the depth increased, but Winston could still see the bright sunshine of the cave mouth some distance away. His progress stopped when what seemed like a dirt wall blocked the oval shaped cave. ‘This is odd’ Winston thought aloud, before he called back to Iona at volume, ‘Hey, I think you should come and see this’ Winston said feeling on the wall, that came away in clumps of dirt as he groped it.

  ‘Huh?’ came Iona’s distant voice,

  ‘There’s a wall back here?’ he said, ‘look, I’ve found some bricks’ added Winston as he pulled more dirt away to expose some neat mud bricks behind their soiled covering.

  ‘What?’ said Iona, ‘in a cave?’

  ‘Yes, and I think I can see a hole at the top where the bat flew in’ he called back.

  ‘Wait, I’m coming’ said Iona, ‘I should probably see this.' But Winston did not hold on a moment and began to claw at the wall with a frenzy. He put his face next to the bricks and felt cold air caress his skin as it seeped through from the other side.

  ‘This wall is not a thick one’ Winston spoke aloud and tapped his knuckle upon the barrier. A hollow sound came back. The scuttle of Iona’s footsteps grew closer,

  ‘Wait for me’ she called as she skidded along. In a moment, she stood next to him, with a shiny pink face.

  ‘Why is there a wall in here?’ said Winston, pacing the space with his hands on his hips - animated and pensive.

  ‘I’ve no idea’ replied Iona, ‘but there are some lantern sticks’ she said gesturing to some objects in the far reaches. ‘But this wall looks ancient’ she added, her neck crooked and eyes agape, ‘but I'll need to inspect this carefully’, and she walked towards the wall to caress it. But Winston’s breath became shallow, and his pulse raced.

  ‘Stand back’ he said, and Iona just got out of the way in time when he gave the wall a mighty kick which blasted a hole in it. Iona exclaimed with shock.

  ‘I’m an archaeologist’ she protested, ‘this is not how we’re supposed to do things’ she added shaking her head,

  ‘Well I’m a particle physicist, and we like to bash things together’ replied Winston, as a rush of cold air surrounded them and an unpleasant odour filled their nostrils. Iona snorted her disgust but wasted no time to step forward to peer into the breach.

  ‘Oh, my, GOD’ she exclaimed looking back, ‘there’s something in there.' Iona needed no further encouragement, as the pair clawed at the pliable bricks and in a short time they had created a hole large enough for them both to get through. ‘Do you have a torch?’ she said breathless, and Winston dug into his side pouch to draw out a pocket flashlight, ‘Geek’ she said with a smirk, before she snatched the torch from his grasp, clicked it on, and thrust herself into the dark space. ‘Holy SHIT’ Iona exclaimed, which disturbed some of the bats that clung to the roof of the cave, and the pair both coughed as the full stench of their dung choked the air. Iona shook all over, Winston’s jaw dropped open, and the few hairs on his body stood on end while chills ran up and down him as the pair tried to make sense of the object they saw.

  ‘What is it?’ Winston demanded as Iona did her best to illuminate a stepped plinth on which rested a vast marble bowl, sat upon a taloned pedestal encircled by carved serpents rendered in exquisite detail. Iona did not answer and just shook her head in disbelief. ‘Hold the torch still’ said Winston as the flashlight wobbled over the object's surface. She couldn’t do it, and shrieked, almost dropping the torch, when light wandered onto a shrivelled human corpse near the object on the floor: the mangled person looked like they had died in agony. Winston held her hand steady and moved the light around. He shuddered too, an
d Iona tried to stifle another scream that seeped out between her fingers, as Winston cast the light over more tortured corpses that littered the space. Winston counted fifteen at a glance. ‘They must have been sacrificed here?’ he said, and Iona nodded somewhat mortified.

  ‘I’ve never seen anything like it’ she added, taking back control of the torch and casting the light about with more confidence as if to prove she was no longer afraid. The cave seemed to lead further on toward the back, the sound of water trickled in the distance, but the pair ignored the deeper reaches to focus their minds on the enormous object in front of them. Together the pair cast the torch light over the sculpted stone and walked closer trying to ignore the corpses. The carved serpents around the bowl were crafted so well from their marble that they looked almost life-like, and gave the impression of movement as the light moved across their etched scales.

  They both ascended the steps chiselled into the plinth and stepped closer to the object. Their breath became ragged. Iona, compelled, reached out to touch the marble, but an instinct within Winston snatched forward to draw her hand back. Resisting, she turned to him with surprise, but then intuited his feeling and held off. Iona instead began to walk around the oddity to inspect it.

  ‘The carving is exquisite’ she said, ‘consistent with some of the best sculpture of the classical period.' Iona scrutinised the object, ‘whoever crafted this had great skill and probably had many assistants to produce a work of this scale' she said, eyeballing the details, her voice filled with awe: as if she were presenting a documentary on cable TV.

  ‘How old is it?’ said Winston, Iona furrowed her brow in concentration.

  ‘Looking at the style I’d guess 400-200 B.C. This has to be from the Hellenic period, but I’ve never seen anything like this before, this is unheard of, and this…’ Iona said pointing to a cast metal ring that encircled the whole vessel, adorned with animal and human figures protruding from it at intervals above her brow, ‘I’ve no idea what this is yet.'